C'est Trop Tendance à Mentir
by Hetabee
Summary: (DISCONTINUED)
1. The Horror

A gentle click of the door was all the warning they got before the metaphorical shit hit the fan.

A syrupy-sweet voiced American woman walked into the hall of her small house, curious as to what her unexpected guests all looked so guilty about, "What are you kids doing in here? What happened now? Did Alfre-OH MY GOD!", she clutched a hand to her chest to stop her, most likely, malfunctioning heart from exploding into a starburst of bloody vesicles as she began to survey her environment.

The couch, her couch, was overturned and looked to have been doused with countless buckets of water. Hardwood floors that had been so painstakingly mopped and then re-mopped, only to endure torture from her family during the holiday months - resulting in the fifth mopping of that particular day - were decorated in chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

Food particles of many kinds were spread out in untidy piles on the counter-tops, next to an overflowing sink full of still dirty dishes. Even the walls of the (formerly) restored home were dripping with water in strange places, creating clear ponds on the kitchen tiles, some of which a certain frog was clearly having fun stepping onto as he hopped straight onto one with great gusto.

Right in front of Alfred's mother.

The result of this was instantaneous and terrifying. A drenched, shivering Mrs. Jones trudged up to the horrified French boy and whispered, "I'm going to turn a blind eye in this-", Francis stepped back, ultimately splashing the woman once more. He winced. Mrs. Jones halted in her statement with an almost imperceptible twitch of the eye, recollecting her good _wholesome_ thoughts and choosing now to continue on.

"-this little stunt of his, but before you go. Would one of you please tell me where my precious son is?", she asked, sounding unnervingly serene.

Lovino, who for the better part of his time at the bastard's house remained asleep after the horror of enduring the taste test from Hell, had decided that the faster this woman got her answer, the less likely he would be to get his ass chewed out.

And damn, did this chick freak him out talking like that Ivan jerk does..

"I-I-I-I... I m-m-mean, the b-bastard is outside g-getting his pie", he replied, shaking with fear.

_...Not that he'd ever admit it, dammit!_

She was just a woman, a woman full of _motherly love _that she just wanted to thrust upon her son in a way that would make Natalia jealous, but she was still just a woman.

_Nothing to be seriously afraid of..._

"Oh, that explains why my flower garden is in ruins! I'm so glad that months and months of work went into an elaborate destruction of my personal hobby, aren't you?", she smiled a big, fake cheery smile.

_No way in fucking hell am I falling for that trap!_

"A-are we actually supposed to answer that?! I'm so confused!", cried a very Spanish accent.

Mrs. Jones smiled even brighter, bringing her hands up to her mouth in a feign surprised face, "You don't know? Well, let me tell you Antonio, that it was a nice garden. Nothing like your beautiful garden though. I mean, if someone were to harm tomatoes like yours... I don't know what you would do.."

_He'd cried. _

_Duh._

"...Por favor señorita Jones, no hagas esto a un hombre español, desesperada me tu eres a matarás!", Antonio practically sang in his anguish, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

_Predictable jackass._ Lovino rolled his eyes despite himself.

"I won't hurt you, Antonio. Just as long as you step outside with your friends and walk home as quickly as possible, 'kay?", her tone left no room for arguement.

As if they would've anyway.

Soon, each visitor got out of there as calmly as they could after having a near-death experience, making sure to get the details from Alfred on Monday (if he would still be alive by the time she was done with him).

* * *

Outside they ran into Gilbert, who had been on an errand to get more molasses and maple syrup for the desserts they were (attempting) to recreate, the smug smirk spread across his face didn't sit well with Francis. So he asked:

"Gil, I know this is a stupid question but, what did you do?", as Gilbert's smirk deepened, Francis knew that this couldn't be good.

"You know when I said that I was 'the party bomb'?", Gilbert beamed.

"Oui", the Frenchman's frown amplified at his friend's glee.

"Well, I left a little something for Alfie there so he would remember just how awesome I really am!"

"Gilbert..."

"Don't worry, it'll only activate after another trap is triggered first", his red eyes glinted with mischief.

"What if it isn't triggered?", Lovino didn't trust a word that came out of that albino bastard's mouth.

"Oh, if doesn't matter since Birdy will trigger it after his little nap is over"

Antonio, seeming to sense the mood, for once, paled visibly. He was used to getting into trouble with his _amigos, _especially after a prank had backfired and now that he was being watched closely by a neighborhood watch team afterschool, he couldn't help but to feel a sense of déjà vu as they walked further away from the danger zone.

"_Pero_, what kind of trap is it?", he had a feeling it was something worth knowing..

"Nothing special. Just, eh, a water ballon filled with stuff"

"What kind of stuff?"

"Maple syrup", Gilbert walked forward, unaware of the stares of disbelief he was getting from the boys behind him.

The other teens all stared back at the retreating form of the house of which they all had a part in wrecking, thinking the same thing:

_..Alfred is so dead..._

There wasn't much they could do that didn't involve getting their keisters turned into raw burning beef, except walking away and pretending that they weren't apart of this-

"ALFRED FAIRFAX JONES, YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK HOME OR _I SWEAR TO GOD_, I WILL TURN YOUR CORPSE INTO MY OWN PERSONAL BODYSUIT, MISTER!"

And praying for the lost soul of their American classmate.

He was going to need all the help he could get.

Even if it was indirect.

* * *

**Translations** (in order, hopefully):

The title of this fic means "It's too trendy to lie" in French, I hope.

_"...Por favor señorita Jones, no hagas esto a un hombre español, desesperada me tu eres a matarás!"_ - "Miss Jones... Please do not do this to a Spanish man, you're desperate to kill me!"

_-if you don't know that, you should be slapped-_

_-if you don't know that, you should be slapped twice for not watching Rugrats in Paris-_

_"Pero.."_ - "But"

* * *

This is my first published fan fic for Hetalia: Axis Powers and that makes me so happy! Ever since I decided to give this show a shot, I've felt happier and more willing to learn about new cultures. Especially those I know little about. Though I don't watch much anime, I'll play the heck out of this show any day. ^^ So yeah, unneeded info aside, I had this random idea for a human AU fic where the countries have this big competition and everything goes wrong, to introduce a Hetalia OC of mine.

He's a state, btw. Pennsylvania, to be more specific. Since I, a proud Pennsylvanian, am so proud of the amazing cities (and food), music, people (and food), my fellow states and my states' food. Did I mention the pretzels (but seriously, the food makes me cry fairy sparkles of _luv_)? Oh, Auntie Anne's, you spoil me with your deliciousness... _*pulls a Homer, drools all over my keyboard*_

But he wouldn't really be in this much. Just as a cameo and something more... I don't even know. But, he wouldn't be the main character. And actually now that I think about it, should this story count in the OC category? 'Cause he won't be there for long.. o.O

That's beside that point, um, just thank you if you read it. And even more if you enjoyed it! And, er, welcome to my morbid mind of humanized Hetalia~ :)


	2. The Calm Before The Storm

"You stay in your room and don't you dare move an inch out of that bed, you got that? Alfred?"

Alfred grumbled under his breath, trying to move his arms to get some blood flowing back into his veins.

His mother was one of those types of moms that became overprotective when you screwed up big time. One of her tricks was to wrap you up in a blanket cocoon and leave old baby monitors in the room with one in her own, to check up on you whenever she felt it necessary.

And he had thought that was bad enough before, being stuck in his room like a teenaged toddler. But now it was even worse.

He had the most annoying itch on his nose that he couldn't reach. Or rub. Or touch.

Or anything.

It was driving him crazy.

So crazy that he tried clawing at his blankets, fumbling around in the hopes of finally scratching that spot. This, however, only ended in him becoming more stuck.

With some new scratches on his arms. He sighed. _Well, at least that itch went away-_

_Oh no. _

_Spoke too soon._

That itch was just taunting him now, wasn't it?

He supposed he earned it this past week, what with the awkward glances and stalker-ish behavior some would say he displayed towards the new kid. It wasn't his fault that the guy was weird, he made that obvious all on his own.

"Alfred! You got that?!", his mother yelled, knocking on the door.

"Yeah yeah, I got it already! Geez...", _you do one thing wrong and it's like the end of the world.._

"Excuse me?", there it was, _that_, voice again.

"I s-said nothing, ma'am!", Alfred amended, chuckling nervously.

"...That's what I thought", the heels of his mother's shoes clicked all the way back to the kitchen, much to the relief of her son.

Bright blue eyes settled on the ceiling of his room, making out each elegantly sculpted nook and cranny of the roofing, it reminded him of his mother's yummy lemon meringue pie. The smooth meringue mixture was always golden brown along with the tangy tart lemon flavor from the filling and the best homemade crust (absolutely incomplete without those crunchy walnuts!). It was just, like, if the intensity of sex could be harnessed into one single dish. Then that would be all of his mother's cooking, to be honest.

"UGH!", Alfred grunted in frustration, it had all been going so well!

Now he had no chance of winning the bet. That frenchie douche would probably just waltz up to the guy and charm the pants straight off of him with a swish of the hips.

This was all very possible since he knew Francis was weird like that.

He probably had superhuman powers that translated everything he said into some not unbelievably cheesy crap he said when hitting (on) a girl's eardrums.

_Or something..._

_...Whatever._

The American had given into his body's demands and fell against the mattress, his breathing evening out moments later. Though he couldn't escape his pillowy prison. Yet. The least he could was get some shut-eye.

_Right?_

Alfred snored softly, shifting to find his beloved alien plushie (that he clearly could not see with his eyes stubbornly shut), trying to fully relax. His mind continued to bombard him with flashes of certain events that ultimately caused the epic failure that was last week.

He'd been so close to victory until that stupid song started playing.

* * *

_Earlier that week..._

* * *

"Get your dirty paws off of my nosh!", a milk carton went flying, beaning an indignant Norwegian on the head.

"But I have to show you how to eat it properly, _mon chér~_", the fork Arthur launched had just missed his eye...

"I said _sod off_, prat!", several more objects found themselves being misplaced in a tangent by the raving Brit.

It was lunchtime at Saint Reed Academy and the daily routine was in full swing, like it always was. Alfred devoured his meal in gargantuan-sized bites, swallowing his food down (seemingly) easily, making small talk as he ate, much to everyone's disgust. Arthur and Francis were playing old married couple throughout the entire period, meaning, yell-bitch-fight-sickening sweet moment-argue-bitch-ignore-get over whatever was being fought about-snide remark-bitch-repeat.

Ivan sat there as well (though he was uninvited like every other day), grinning like the creepy Russian teddy bear that he is.

What could he possibly be thinking about that made his eyes flash so dangerously bright anyway...?

"But I insist, helping is something a gentlemen would like. Oui?", Francis stated, no hint of question in his tone.

"No, I insist! You'll only get in my way..", Arthur muttered the last part, smirking devilishly. An idea had suddenly popped into his noggin.

"I shall not stop until I show you how it is _supposed_ to be done, Arthur!", he crossed his arms, brows furrowed in mock disappointment.

"Fine, fine.. If you bloody well feel like it, then go ahead and school me, frog", the smirk only got tighter as Francis moved closer to his face.

"Ah! It makes me very glad to see you finally coming around, mon amour~", Francis prattled on, eyes closed in ignorant bliss. Taking a healthy amount of banana into his mouth, he unpeeled it with one finger.

'Cuz he's boss like that.

Inching closer towards the other's steadily reddening face, he smirked, "Just don't move too fast, I'm _quite_ fragile", he whispered huskily, letting a dreamy sigh pass between his lips.

The Brit willed his blush away, opting to do what his twisted mind had told him to instead of gawking at the arsehole.

_He has such lovely features for a man._ Silently cursing himself for his bipolar subconscious, he leant forward uneasily, intent on hurting his fellow classmate for insulting his teddies.

They were the bee's knees he'd have you know!

_Now just don't look at the pervert's mouth and you should do fine, 'ol chap._

_Though he had to admit that his lips did look quite... Luscious... _

_Maybe even...?_

_Kissabl-_

_No. Nonononono no no._

_Save. Me. Queen. Elizabeth._

_I've failed my own nation._

_Bloody Hell no!_

He was _NOT_ about to finish that thought.

Before he could blink his (least) favorite American had seemed to be out his latest feeding frenzy for the half hour, and felt the need to comment:

"Hey, if you guys are like done giving me a contact boner, I was wondering if I can I have that ice cream cup now?", he reached over to claim his frozen plunder.

_"WHAT?!"_, Arthur screeched, voice higher than Wiz Khalifa and Snoop Dogg during a rerun of their movie played at a 24-hour 420 event.

"I really want it, bro! I'm starving over here!", Alfred whined, face covered in ketchup from his fallen hamburger brethren.

"...", this situation was clearly leaps and bounds out of the possible scenarios he had imagined himself in for his study of his 'American friend's culture'. **((A/N: Caught the sarcasm there, I hope.))** He was currently being groped by a touchy-feely Frenchman and all the twit could think about was his bloody food, as if the cow needed anymore sustenance!

_How trivial_, he couldn't agree with his mind more on the matter.

Alfred was... indescribable.

No. Much worse.

Insufferable. The most insufferable git he had ever met in his life. And he used that term very loosely.

Friend, that is.

He began to ponder over how he had even moved there in the first place. Until...

"Oh come on, Artie! Pl_eeeeeeeeeeeeeee_ease with fried quadruple stuffed Oreos and a caramel candy apple on _tooooooooooop_~_!?_", Alfred sang obnoxiously. If he didn't save his frozen treat soon it was going to melt, and he would die before he let that happen.

"You know bloody what, you walking refrigerator, I-!", he cut off when a hand slowly made its self known in the inside of his uniform shirt, pissed at being stopped before even mid-rant, Arthur turned to Francis, the latter simply smiling at the other's livid expression.

Replacing the banana for a beautiful red rose he magically summoned from the spirits of amour, Francis stated, "Do not mind me, bonbon. I'm just entertaining myself", he cupped Arthur's face in his hands, "Get finished with le stupide Américain and we can find a suitable place for my-", the Brit was beginning to see red as the Frenchman gazed at him, talking about the person in the room that was so obviously there, but not just any someone, it was his best friend.

The golden-haired Yankee bastard.

Arthur had a very rough time moving from his dear United Kingdom to the States. He missed his friends. He missed being valedictorian and filling the role of his prep school's charming president. His everyday routine that he had memorized so well that could still recite his early morning greetings to the townsfolk he grew up admiring, to this very day. Even the stormy patterns of weather that just went on and on, constantly trumping his desire to play rugby with the guys, didn't hurt him as badly as moving had. He missed it all. And when his parents told him that they were moving to America, the land of the free and the home of the brave, he almost had a panic attack.

Finally, after many a failed debate on Arthur's behalf, the family set off to the United States. More specifically, Virginia, to start anew in this vast melting pot of a country. The airport was rowdy as all young tykes rose hell, airport security guards broke up a fight between a drunkard and some guy he punched, drifters wandered around, carefully eying suitcases that looked to have valuables inside. What was worse than any of that?

One simple thing.

He was checking on his cell phone and there were no Chiquito's in America.

Nowhere. Not anywhere at all.

Not even a mention of it on the online site he used to figure out what's what in this damned place.

The emerald-eyed boy wanted to just _rage_ and _shout_ and just break _something_.

Eventually after keeping as calm as the Gods would allow him, Arthur's parents had returned to his side with their luggage and told their son to pick a place to eat, for they were famished. After receiving the money to pay for their food, he found some McDonald's station and decided to get the slow process of inevitable heart failure underway, so he could die as quickly as possible in this wretched place.

Walking up to the counter, he ordered whatever he hadn't deemed absolutely unappealing and paid the cashier, stalking over to the drink dispensers. There he met the one person he never thought he would like as much as he did. An American, true to his nation, the boy carried so many bags of food, Arthur thought his heart would have an attack at the mere sight of it. He commented as such and wanted to take it back as soon as he said it. The food was for his large travel party, not him alone. Arthur apologized profusely, but the American, _Alfred_, said it was alright. He laughed it off and left. Arthur had felt like a loathsome arse the entire rest of the day, he vowed to himself that if he ever saw the boy again, he would properly apologize and make things right like the gentleman he truly was.

His first day of school in America was made out of a high school horror film.

He missed the bus so his mum had to drop him off, from there he get completely and utterly lost. Finally giving up after searching for an administrator in between shifting classes, being pushed around like he was in a moshpit, Arthur found a lone column of pillars and made his way over.

Slouching on a pillar as he silently sobbed, he barely registered that there were outside classes at this place too.

Meaning he wasn't out there all alone like he had hoped.

Wanting to die even more, he wiped uselessly at his eyes, feeling like a sore loser as he caught the gaze of whoever had interrupted his sulking.

It was that boy again, Alfred Jones.

Except now he looked concerned and he was saying something, but the sound didn't quite get up to Arthur's ears until he was being hoisted up and led to the main office. On the way there Alfred had pointed out to everything worth mentioning, wanting Arthur to know what was where. That act alone made his heart thump louder, for some reason, and the Brit's grip on his knapsack slackened. Once Alfred noticed that he had smiled, and oh Lord almighty was that a beautiful smile! The two of them had arrived outside the main office's doors and before he could ask, Arthur was being dragged inside by a beaming Alfred, who hadn't left. Oh well then, it's his education. The two had almost every class together and, that, coupled with the unabashed glee on the other's face, helped Arthur to breathe a little easier.

Maybe this place wouldn't be as horrible as he thought. Not while Alfred was around.

The two had walked out of the office, babbling about nothing and everything all at once. A small smile made itself at home on Arthur's face and the two had been in wonderful company ever since.

Now don't get Arthur wrong or anything, he liked teasing Alfred as much as the next wanker. Even more when he was feeling especially annoyed by the American's endless supply of cheer. But Alfred was _his_ to make fun of and then steer in the right direction, nobody else's.

Nobody got to see the American squirm and spit rudely at him like he had.

Well, except maybe his brother.

_What was his name again? __Something with a W, possibly? __Wilhelm? Wren? Wilfred? _

_...Erm...?_

_Wilfred? That's it! I hope.._

_Yeah, Wilfred, that's got to be it!_

_Seriously, they should put a bell on that boy's neck. He really has a bad habit of sneaking up on people..._

_Yeah, if I see him - wait, I never met the boy before. Oh bollocks. What was I doing again?_

"How should I say? Ah that's it!", Francis lowered the other into his lap, eyes gleaning with something not suitable for children. Or parental guidance, as far as you can tell. He 'honhonhon~'-ed as he continued his drawl, "My _Richard_", he muttered suavely against the Englishman's neck, causing him to flinch.

_Oh yes, breaking the froggie's nose in. That's what it was._

"There's no way I would ever touch anything of yours, you bumbling baguette!"

"You say that yet you are touching me as we speak, Arthur"

"No I'm not-", Arthur glanced down. _Since when was I sitting in his lap?! _

Enjoying the look of pure shock on that cute face, he laughed,"Ohonhonhon~ See, you cannot deny it", he slid his hands down lower and lower and _lower_ against the other's back.

"Deny what? You sleazy snail...", slapping filthy hands away from his arse, he glared with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns.

"Your infatuation with me, mon chér~"

All that followed up his response was the subtle darkening of emerald eyes to forest green, a choke of air and the not-so-subtle tightening of the tie around his neck.

"Where did you get that idea from. _Frog_", his voice was tight and clipped, like a certain Frenchie's head was about to be.

"A-ah, I just heard from a p-private source", Francis' dry throat swallowed nothing, he felt as if he was naked in that moment, and not in the fun way.

"Spill. It. Now", when no one moved, he began to stare Alfred down. Alfred visibly jumped.

He was in for it now..

Arthur just stared a hole through his head, searching the American's eyes for something and after an uncomfortable amount of staring he found it.

_Cor blimey_, did he find it.

Panic. Anger. Fear. Sorrow. Guilt.

He had told him.

Just the fact that he had told anybody was enough to get his knickers in a twist, but no, not only had he told someone.

He had told _him_, of all people.

It was a slap to the Englishman's own ignorant pride. He thought Alfred was his friend. Why would he do that? Weren't they on familiar enough terms to know what one another would like to have kept secret between each other?

He guessed not anymore.

"Arthur", the voice hesitated, "Please, just let me explain", a hand was placed on his arm and he shirked it off.

"No, let me tell you something", his tone was soft, yet his fury was ready to allow him to explode, "I don't know how things work in America but where I'm from one doesn't go around, telling everyone their _friend's-_", he spat the word out like acid, "-secrets like it's nobody's business and I would never tell any of yours. Not even if someone bribed me with a million dollars. But you, you careless...", he shook his head, shoulders shaking from quiet sobs.

Oh God, why did he always have to cry?

"Arthur?", another voice piped up, too close for comfort, "Don't cry".

Of course that only made him cry harder.

His sobs became sniffle fits and he couldn't bare the idea of having a full-out breakdown in front of his entire class, so detaching himself from Francis's arms, he ran out of the cafeteria as fast as he could, his blubbering heard from down the halls.

The ever-present talking of the cafeteria was now replaced with whispers and awkward attempts to lighten the mood by the school's most notorious trio - minus one.

Francis, himself, was too stunned into silence to gather that his friends had made their way over to his side and were talking to him.

"Hey Francy-pants, what was that all about? I haven't seen a kid so upset here since you found out that you weren't allowed to bring wine", questioned Gilbert.

"Yeah", Antonio nodded, "Did Alfred short-circuit him again?"

This brought their attention back to the bespectacled teen, his head in his hands as he focused on the one thing haunting him.

Arthur had cried. _He_ was the one who had made him _cry_. And for what, to get Frenchie off his case?

Not long after the bell for third lunch had rang, the teens immediately started clearing off their trays and slowly cruising through the halls to their third period classes. All except Alfred, who had remained transfixed to the spot, despite the juniors that began to file into clustered lines for their lunch.

He felt like the world's worst friend and nothing would change that to him.

The ice cream cup sat across the blonde, water encircling its exterior as it thawed. Alfred got up and took it to the trash bin, half-heartedly tossing it in.

He didn't feel hungry anymore.

* * *

**Translations** (in order, hopefully):

_"...mon chér"_ - "my darling" in French

___-if you don't know that, you should be slapped thrice for not watching Rugrats in Paris for a second time-_

_"...mon amour"_ - "my love" in French

_-if you can't figure that out, then you really are le/la stupide Américain ^^-_

_*****_not really a translation, but~

"nosh" refers to "food" in English, "knapsack" is pretty much a backpack, "sod off" is, uh, just phone a friend, and "cor blimey" is used as an old-fashioned UK expression to suggest surprise or anger in English.

* * *

OH MY GOD. You do not know how long that took me to _write~! _Holy balls, this was depressing... Kind of off for a comedy, eh? Well, I can't explain it but this whole Arthur backstory came to me last night and I was more than halfway finished by then, so I decided to just go forth and finish it. I do hope you think it wasn't too much. I got the idea after thinking of my British friend, Rowan. He's really sweet and pishedy-posh. c:

Anyway...

Right now until whenever, the story is going to be all about the week of the incident that totally ruined Mrs. Jones' house and how that came to be and everything else. Most of this will be during school or at Al's neighborhood, speaking of that, I bet you can't guess who I'm using next chapter. Heh, don't worry, you'll like 'em. ;)

But seriously, thank you **MarauderMoony21** for following this mass of too many ideas, you made my week! :D

So, if that's all, read and review? Maybe. Maybe not. Yeah...

I'll be waiting in your closet tonight, if you do. *troll face*


	3. (NOT AN UPDATE): Beware The Fails Ahead

NOT AN UPDATE.

GAH! I feel so stupid, not explaining who's who. I blame myself (and my newly acquired need for reading Hetalia fics all Summer long ever since I said I wouldn't, and...)

...Nevermind that now, here's the list of who's in this so far:

**Alfred - America/US**

**Arthur - England/Britain/UK**

**Francis - France**

**Lovino - Southern Italy**

**Antonio - Spain**

**Gilbert - Prussia**

**Natalia - Belarus**

**Ivan - Russia**

And the Norwegian must be Norway, right? I'll just use his fanon name...

There, now that my failures have been covered up, I have taken a vow to make the other characters' appearance(s) into the story as obvious as I can. Fingers crossed.

Oh, and **Matthew is Canada**.

I am not making that joke right now. I'm not in the mood. I'm too embarrassed :I


	4. Day 0: Stupid Me

**NOTE:** Welcome to the Not-really-new-formatting-but-the-old-way-is-not-w orking-for-me _extravaganza!_ I've decided to start writing this story in POVs since that's kind of what I was doing in the first place, but then it was with chosen characters in a chapter and it really wasn't helping my unorganized thoughts. Anywho..

I'm very grateful for the follows, you guys. They make me incredibly happy. Happy enough that I'll start the distributing of banana stickers now! So, without further ado, this is the _real_ chapter three. Enjoy :D

* * *

~Alfred's POV~

Down the stairs, right, left, skip over the missing tile next to the senior class lockers, past the music room and right through the business department. That's where I had to go. If the rumors were true (and they never were), then Arthur should've been gone way before 4th period ended. I had to lie about having to use the bathroom before the bell rang just to look for him (with my backpack in tow), but if it would make Arthur accept me as his friend again, then I'd gladly be suspended a million times if that's what it took. Anyway, like every other rumor that passed through this small mountain town, this one had proven to be false.

Arthur, in his slightly crumpled uniform, was staring off into space. Faltering in step, I retreated behind a couple of vending machines. I didn't know how to approach him when he was like this. Granted, I'd only ever seen him like this once before. And that was when he was telling me 'the secret', though it wasn't much of one anymore..

"I figured you like sweets and all but that's not really how it works, you know?", said a voice. I know I've heard it from somewhere, but-

"Oh! But what if it was and you just made a bunch of candy babies, but you didn't have enough time to collect them all before some kid just started unwrapping and eating their delicious goodness? And if you were stranded all alone one day and had nothing else to eat, you'd eat one and then another and another and _ANOTHER_ and you couldn't stop until they were all just ooey gooey chocolatey blood on your face-?!"

"Tino!", I interrupted, most definitely giving away my hiding spot. The blurry memories in my mind refocused and I remembered..

From the wave of new students that slowly arrived at the academy, the Finnish boy was the last of many to ride it out. We had shared an elective class together before I had to switch.

Hey. Band is hard, yo.

Tino, himself, was a pretty straightforward guy, as long as you didn't mess with saunas or Christmas he could be your best friend in no time!

I noticed his company and froze on the spot.

It was Oxenstierna, or as everyone in school dubbed him, Oxen.

He was the most feared person at Saint Reed's for one reason and one reason only, he successfully beat up Ivan Bragniski, the former school bully, for _touching_ his tools. Not breaking, just touching them. And he didn't just beat him up either, he had dragged him by his hair all the way back to Parson's Creek and held his head underwater until he cried uncle.

His usual glare was projecting vibes that told me to wait for him outside after this was over, but Tino seemed unbothered by his presence altogether and I didn't want to be rude.

Besides something had been bothering me about Tino lately.

"Dude, why are you holding a baby?", I asked. He paused for a second before picking up the doll.

"You mean this?", he motioned to the plastic child, "Well it's for a project in my Parenting 101 class. The teacher assigned us each into groups of twos and we have to care for these little darlings until the end of the semester for a joint grade. I named her Glaucous Twinklesprinkle!", a giggle, "Isn't that the cutest name you ever heard?"

"Err...". he gazed back at me with a bright smile, snuggling against the fake baby's hair.

What was I supposed to say?

"_I feel sorry for how much crap your kids are gonna take", "Do you want to hurt the poor doll's feelings? She can't defend herself"? _Why was he asking me all of this, as if it were real?

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped me back to reality. I blanched at the statuesque Swede in front of my face, trying to sink in through the cracks of the wall behind me. Oxenstierna leaned closer as if really noticing me for the first time, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with silent contemplation.

"Don' worry. 'e jus' a'e too m'ch sug'r", he mumbled through his thick accent.

"He ate what?", I must have shouted because he jumped back, glaring death. I laughed weakly, not trusting my face's ability to show just how _heroic_ I was actually feeling.

"You're still going on about that, Ber. I told ya 'sugar is good for the soul'", Tino appeared in front of us, barely able to reach the broad Swedish shoulder he was holding onto, "And anyway, we're not here to talk about my issues. I just want to give him some friendly advice, I know what he's going through after all", Oxenstierna nodded, as if he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You know how to help me? And, uh, who's Ber?", I asked. Tino removed his grasp from the other, who grunted in response.

"Yes. It involves Arthur right?", he pressed forward, ignoring my last question. His self appointed bodyguard moved out of his way as he asked him to, probably willing him not to stray too far. His face made that loud and clear, the tightening of his jaw and nervous click of a pen beneath his thumb were warning enough. The shorter boy eyed me up and down when he neared, slinging up a book bag seemingly out of nowhere.

"You mean, the problem?", he nodded once, gaze fixed on me. "Well, yeah, but what do you think-", taking off his white beret he inspected it for any imperfections, satisfied at finding none, he stuck it back on his crown and fished around in his bag for some time before I decided to space out. Even if my stomach kinda hurt, some footlongs sounded pretty good right about now. With relish and mustard and ketchup...

"You're too obtuse", Tino stated after a long pause, head still claimed by his bag.

"Which means...?"

"Well, isn't that obvious?", he pulled back determinedly, grinning with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"No-", his attention was brought back to the answer to my problems (I hoped) and he motioned for me to wait. Standing up to his full height, Tino tugged on a wooden object protruding from the back of his bag, yanking on the thing until it shot out of his hands an-wait, was that a sled?

He caught my confused expression and laughed, capturing the sled into his grip. I didn't know what to ask him.

"Monkey grease, the sheer force of Thor plus destroying my algebra book for the good of snow sports everywhere and it's not a sled, it's a toboggan", I blinked, half-convinced.

"Then where'd you get the sle-"

"Toboggan"

"That from?"

The uncomfortable cough of the forgotten Swede caught our attention. Stood in a corner, his face was turning a light, _light_ pink color. The floor tiles taking his undivided attention as he looked anywhere but up. I turned to the violet-eyed boy, curious.

"Um... Anywho! What I was trying to say is that to get back in his good graces, you might have to try something out of your comfort zone. Discover some new interests of yours. Or find one you both share currently", the Swedish boy gawked at Tino, the brooding look on his face reminding me of the faces my parents would make at each other before calling me up a playmate to take outside while having their "fun fights" upstairs.

Although, now that I thought about it for a bit Tino's idea sounded like it would get results. Yeah, I could find something that me and Arthur both enjoyed and it would be like old times again. I could strike up a conversation and he'd be too thrilled with what we were talking about to ignore me. It was the perfect plan! And it's not like I had one of my own.

I left the weak hiding spot that was the vending machine feeling more confident than I had, when a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Hey Tino, I thought that g-", the final bell cut me off, students eagerly pushing others out of the way to escape this prison of education. Tino hiked up his bag, sled in tow, pulling on Oxenstierna's arm to get him to hurry up.

"_Hei hei Alfred!_ Tell your mother the roast beef was delicious!", grabbing the most fearsome guy in school, Tino hauled him up onto the sled like he was nothing (he had to be packing roids or something) and used the thing like a skateboard, shooting clear out of the school in no time.

I stood alone in the hallways, too into my freak-out mode to move, that was unbelievably badass... Too caught up in my own real-life Captain Underpants fantasies, I failed to notice Arthur leaving with a copper haired companion, both snickering. The faint noise was killed by the cries of imaginary boogermen deaths in my head.

* * *

**Translations** (only one this time):

_"...Hei hei Alfred!"_ - "Bye bye Alfred!" in Finnish

* * *

I know this took incredibly long for this little snippet; I suck at multitasking effectively if you can't tell. Hopefully everything doesn't seem too crack-ish. Yet.

Now it's UIT - I've been thinking of playing an instrument for awhile now since I've always wanted to learn how to play one. I told my mom this and she said that she could get me one when it was income tax time! _OHMIGOSHHHH!_ My life will be complete then! X3

Ignore that. Now, please forgive me when I say that I have no idea what the Virgina state school systems are like (I live in one of their neighbors), I just thought that my family was really going to move there this fall so I thought, "Why not?". Besides that, were you expecting someone else? My OC, probably. But yeah, I feel that I should do some more research on PA so I don't just,"_**HERSHEY, TASTYKAKES, LIBERTY BELL, BRIDGES AND CHEESESTEAK ARE ALL THAT MATTER!1!1 SPAM~~**_", you. Sorry, I'm from the capital, it's not very historical there now, is it?

Next chapter I'll fit Mason in there, promise.


	5. Day 0 Part II: Fooled Me Once

Before you jump into this chapter, I wanted to make sure you know what's going on with Artie. The slanted (italic) text _like this_ is Arthur's mind (or something else..) talking to him. The bold slanted text**_ like this_ **is Arthur's response to that imaginary presence. So, no he isn't saying this out loud and yes, I like to torture Arthur, like, a lot. Sue me. Un-sue me. And give me a million dollars. ;)

* * *

~Arthur's POV~

I had finally gotten out of that blasted office after my mum had insisted on coming down to check if I was alright. I told her that taking me home would be useless as the school day was almost over. She looked worried but seemed to take the hint and left shortly afterward. Now in the hall, I waited for this cursed day to end, alone. Or I had been until my delusions disappeared and were replaced by the annoyingly familiar voice that I didn't want to hear.

I continued to look skyward at nothing in particular, forcing all of my merciful thoughts to suffocate and die along with my hopefulness. There was no way I was going to forgive that loathsome traitor for outing me. Not now or ever, if I could control it.

_Then why don't you leave like you told mummy you would? Afraid of admitting your feelings for that pig, aren't you?_

_**Well, I did say I was going to-hold on! Did you just call him a pig?! Why, I ought to-!**_

_Wring my little neck in, well then you'd be wringing your own, poppet_.

_**I thought we had an agreement that you would never show up again. You're a nuisance and you ruin my life. Need I remind you of what happened to Countess Hollingberry?**_

_Oh tosh, you still haven't forgiven me for that yet?_

_**You knocked her off her tuffet, destroyed her china cabinet, injured her dog and brought up her dead husband all in one afternoon. So sorry if I'm not inclined to forgive and forget just like that.**_

_We did, you mean._

_**Excuse me?**_

_You can try and pretend that you didn't want to see her fall on her tushie, but you did. If it wasn't for me, you would be a very boring boy Arthur, and we both know that._

"Pardon me, I was wondering if you knew where the closest bathroom was? Ah, this place is so huge, y'know", a voice outside of my head sprung into my ears and I jumped, almost smacking into the lad I hadn't noticed before.

I spun around, praying to the Heavens above that he hadn't heard me talking to... myself.

The boy just gazed back at me with a timid smile and warm hazel eyes, peeking out from underneath copper fringed locks. The large grey glasses he wore over his fair skin hung awkwardly off his face, making me want to push them up myself. He was most likely new, due to the lack of uniformity in his outfit. Rather than the pressed navy blue suit all males were expected to wear, he adorned a cream linen button down, dark boot cut jeans and roll top Timberland boots.

I must have looked a sight, standing around the place like a chav with nothing in the world to do.

If my old mates saw me now, I wonder what they would say...

"Excuse me?", a hand wove in my face, "Should I call someone for you? You don't look so hot..."

Oh yes, he was asking a question.

Retrieving my manners from the hypothetical grave I had buried them in, I stood up straight, extending a hand to shake whilst responding with,"Oh, I'm terribly sorry about the wait. You said you were looking for a restroom? I don't believe I am of any help to you then, as I can't locate any in this place myself without Alfre-", I cut off.

What have I told you about using that name, especially in friendly terms! I explicitly said no more chances for him, got that?!

"Uh, you're gripping pretty tight there...", I pulled back instantly, frowning at my impolite actions. He, however, didn't appear to be all that affected by my behavior. Instead he started sifting through his bag for something, this gave me a second to ponder over how I handled that whole lunchroom fiasco.

Maybe I should've been expecting that to happen. I suspected that baby face was just a cover, but-

"Chocolate?"

"What?", I blinked stupidly.

"You want some?", he chuckled, offering me some of his sweets.

I shrugged, figuring 'why the hell not?'. As soon as I bit into the rectangular bar, I barely had time to restrain myself from making any lewd noises.

And that was_ hard_.

This was the best chocolate I had ever had - it was smooth and rich, rich enough to satisfy your appetite for awhile yet not enough to render it off-putting (could probably do without the bizzare apple aftertaste, but I wasn't complaining) - I needed to know where he got it from.

"Where did you get this from?", I queried in a breathless whisper, not exactly sure he would heard.

"Hm. Oh, that. Well it's just a recipe I've been experimenting with for a bit, you really like it?", he must have took my dumbfounded silence as a yes, smiling more openly, he rubbed his arm (in what I will assume is a nervous habit) and thanked me.

I would've said something if not for the bell ringing, suspending our small talk momentarily. He was opening his mouth to say something when a jovial voice chirped out:

"_Hei hei Alfred!_ Tell your mother the roast beef was delicious!", capturing our attention was a blonde haired boy I knew I had spotted from somewhere, holding onto easily one of the most dreadfully terrifying blokes I had ever seen, zipping away on a...

A toboggan?

This was enamoring enough, except that wasn't even the good part.

Francis, who was too busy oggling himself in a mirror, stood in front of his locker. He was brushing his hair (for some bloody reason) when, out-of-the-blue, here comes a speeding bullet of pain to shoot the wanker off balance and what does he do? Dodge out of the way, of course. Right into the arms of Ivan Bragniski, the second most terrifying bloke, and bawling his eyes out once he has discovered that he was stuck in the bigger boy's scarf.

I knew I shouldn't have laughed nearly as loudly as I did, but when you've had shit day like me, you can't be bothered to care. Luckily I wasn't the only one laughing it up off of the frog's misery, some people who I expected to were (Lovino, Gilbert and even Roderich, ineffectually hiding it behind his hand), who I wasn't expecting was the boy I had just spent the last few moments of the day with. He was trying -and failing- to keep his mouth together, making the goofiest grimace you'd ever see.

I don't know why I singled him out of all people, I just assumed he was one of those 'too nice to laugh at the misfortune of others' types. Apparently not.

It was quite amusing, so much so that time seemed to fly by and it was just him and I left in the abandonded hallway, giggling like drunken schoolgirls. I figured this was as good of a time as any to properly introduce myself.

"Hi, I'm-", we both started at the same time.

"You first", he hiccuped, wiping a tear of mirth from his face.

"I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland, and you are?", I reached my hand out for a shake, of which was shaken wholeheartedly.

"Arthur, I'm Mason, last name Smith. Generic, huh?", he smirked. I shook my head in earnest, randomly choking down sobs.

"Compared to all the Harry Aaron's I left back home, I'd say not. Uh, I do believe you were going to say something earlier. What was it?", Mason beamed like sunshine, presumably remembering what it was.

"Well I'm just itching to tweek some old recipes of mine and I need a new partner, so... Only if you want to", he made a big show of looking up through his fringe at me with the most pitiful pout, so naturally the deal was already sealed.

"He doesn't"

Doing a full 360 angle, we whirled around to see the looming figure of a fellow about 6 feet in height, spiky blonde hair, green eyes and small vertical scar running down the right side of his forehead, giving us the evil eye.

Well, not really us as much as just _me_.

Long blue and white scarf fluttering on a non-existent wind, hand on his hip in an impatient manner he stared at Mason, who groaned in an exaggerated, cartoon-ish way.

"I was going to call but this school is stupid with its policies! I was asking him where the bathroom wa-", he made the blunder of bringing me up, inciting the spiky haired male's incentive to leave that much sooner.

"We're going home, Mason"

"What? But-"

"Now", grabbing the reluctant boy's arm, he lectured, "I told you it isn't smart to make nice with others unless you really have to. Patches is all the friend you need-"

"But she's a bunny!"

"The best damn bunny you'd ever seen"

"Which still makes her a bunny! Ugh... Lars-"

"Hopefully she isn't nearby so I can finally teach you how to be non-conformist just like me-"

As if on cue, a blonde bombshell waltzed into the middle of the scene, tossing her waffle iron around like a punk with their yo-yo (winding up the cord, followed by flicking it oh-so-close to everyone's faces for fun). Striking the almighty anime inspired pose of a girl pointing at you dramatically with no mercy in her eyes, she glomped her brother from behind, providing ample time for Mason to run...

"I GOT YOU, I GOT YOU! Aren't you supposed to be working or something, bro?", she peered up at the sullen boy, waggling her eyebrows playfully.

"Ugh.. Shouldn't _you_ be working, Bella? I'm off today", used to this routine of his sister's he folded his arms above her head, face masked of any emotion. I'm guessing, how would I know?

"I thought your job was one of those weekly-type dealies"

"Well it's not, now can I help you?"

"Yup. I want one of those stories where the main character is an uk-", whatever she was referring to did not please Lars so, calmly unlooping her arms from his stomach he narrowed his eyes dangerously at the simpering expression lighting the feisty blonde's features.

"That's not what I meant", he growled through clenched teeth. Bella rolled her eyes dramatically, I glanced to Mason, who shrugged, face as confused as I felt.

"Maybe I just wanted to visit my lovely brother today. Ever thought of returning the favor, you big meanie", the blonde girl frowned, still I could tell she wasn't actually upset.

"Yeah yeah, I get it. I'm the worst brother in the world. Cry me a river. Am I supposed to get you more flour for baking or something?", he drawled sarcastically.

His sister either disregarded his annoyance or was unable to read sarcasm as she answered,"No, though I could use some more apples at home. We seem to be all out of those...", she pointedly stared at Mason, who looked to be deciding if he should beg for mercy or lose his lunch, yet just as quickly dropping the act and pulling both members of her household into a tight squeeze against her chest.

_Oooooh, I like this one. Befriend him and get over that slob already._

**_Bugger off, you. No one asked for your opinion._**

_Don't make me voice my opinion now, or do you want to play? Artieeeee~_

Good God was I thrilled that my childhood was over, so that I didn't have to deal with this freak.

"Bye Arthur!"

I was startled out of my thoughts for the umpteenth time today by a happy voice. The glasses-wearing boy waved at me. Lars glowered at me from his right, obviously not liking the idea of me near him in the least bit. Nevertheless, it was this or nothing at all. Friend making was not, and would never be, my forté. I waved to Mason, holding back a smug smirk as his "guardian" huffed and briskly power-walked out of the building, Bella chatting animatedly at his heels. I didn't know how I was going to get over Alfred. Whether through payback or humiliation, definitely the latter, but I knew one thing for certain.

Payback was a bitch.

* * *

It sure is. For someone... -_-

No translations this time. Man Arthur, why is writing in your thoughts so hard? I've failed you all...

Am I even writing a comedy? It seems like I'm trying to make this a drama. I do have a weird sense of humor. Ugh, I feel like this is going to be one of those chapters that I look back at a long time from now and say, "WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?!". I know that the ending was rushed and basically everything is rushed, but I'm straining to get the actual idea I have onto paper, er, document. I do hope that the Arthur-to-himself conversations didn't confuse you, and that you can at least stand Mason... I based his clothes on the modern day equivalent (in my opinion) of what colonial Pennsylvanians would wear, just without the coat and stockings. The glasses I chose also have some history behind them, but I'll get to that on a better day.. It's sad how much I write when I extend the thought out further than necessary.

I think I'm going to stick with Alfred's POV for a while now. :\


	6. Day 1: Ace Up My Sleeve

It's like everytime I write a chapter, I write a redo chapter and I always use that redo chapter. I'm sorry, I'm just really rusty with my writing and formatting, but _especially_ my writing. I don't really talk to people in my age group, so... Let's see if I can do what I've planned to effectively :P

Oh, and since I've left it off so many times (even though I feel it's way too obvious). **I do not Hetalia or any of its characters.** Just my OC Mason.

* * *

~Alfred's POV~

Using my time wisely, I skipped the shower to make it to school faster. There were more important things I could be doing today. Like figuring out how I was going to win Arthur back. Or if I was starting to lose it.

I had the strangest feeling all morning. Like I was being followed by a ghost. It kept saying, "Why are you ignoring me, eh? Forgot about your own brother again?". What a stupid ghost.

I don't have a brother. Everyone knows that!

Freaky deaky paranormal crap aside, I stepped through the academy's wooden front doors thinking about the advice I got yesterday and I thought, and thought, and thought and then it hit me. I had no idea what Arthur likes.

Well, besides the occult and his obscure British television but I couldn't figure either of those out on my own.

When we hung out it was usually my job to pick something for us to do and he always went along with it. So maybe he could have been doing that to stop my whining, or he liked watching celebrity news as much as I did?

_Did he even have a favorite celebrity? Should I imitate him? What if it was a girl? Did that mean I'd have to wear a skirt, too?_

"Who would have to wear a skirt? It better not be me", I smiled at my friend, glad for his psychic-help-Alfred-senses. "Tino!", I tackle-hugged him from the side, knocking us both onto the ground.

"Alfred!", Tino's nose snuggled into the corner of my armpit before jerking back, giving me a disbelieving stare, "Forgot to wash this morning, huh", I shrugged, "Just feeling lazy then"

"No, I just don't think it's all that important right now", in his haste to get as far away from my pits as possible, Tino wiggled towards my stomach. Expecting him to leave because of my stank, I grabbed his middle to push myself off the floor and climbed up his body to sit on his stomach, "Don't leave me!", I exclaimed.

"Well... You're squishing me into Tino-toothpaste, could you please move your rump?", I shook my head, "Oh come on, why not?", he complained, reaching for his floor level locker in vain.

"I want to make sure you won't leave me first. I have a question", Tino stopped moving long enough to shoot me an incredulous look.

"About?", one eyebrow raised and mouth set in a firm straight line, it made me think of...

"Arthur", the shorter boy made a thoughtful noise, turning his face as close to mine as he could before it counted as me tea-bagging him.

Tino frowned, "Don't you remember my advice?", I nod pathetically.

"Yeah, I do! It's just, I can't figure out-"

"-what to do with it?", the violet-eyed boy's face broke out into a wide grin, moving me aside like a too playful stray that had gotten on his belly. He hoisted me up by a yank of the arm, patting my back, "Ha, we'll get ya talking to Arthur again in no time or I'm not the unofficial love guru! Just text me during third period with some deets"

"Since when did you become a sap?", looking over his shoulder I could see a light blue and white snowflake blanket in his locker, leaning forward a bit I found out what it was for.

"...Dude", he had an array of colorful glitters, lip glosses and cotton balls huddled up behind his plastic project. I guess that he wouldn't have been able to bring nail polish because of the school's strict policy on flammable liquids, but that didn't explain why he had all _that_ in his locker in the first place.

"Hm", following my eyes to his little crib setup, he cried, "If you had a child you would know what I'm going through. This is the best I can do right now as a single parent with no job. Stop looking at me like that!"

"It's just a doll!", Tino gasped, covering the doll's ears.

"Don't listen to him, Twinky", cheek snuggled against the baby's permanently smiling face, he stroked her head lovingly, "He's just your grumpy uncle who doesn't believe in Santa. When we go home I'll make ya some gingerbread, yah?"

"Hey, could I have some too?", I might have forgotten to eat something in my sprint to catch the bus, not a big deal or anything but he was a Pat the Baker at baking.

"Why don't ya consult your Christmas wish list? Oh, that's right. Ya don't believe. I'll just treat myself in your place, like I know ya would want me to", searching his pockets he brought out a bag of black Twizzler candies in the shape of skulls. I could feel the drool pooling in my mouth. I had a special attachment to anything sweet ever since I was a toddler. It started the first time my aunt gave me gum without my mom's permission, it was so good that I stole some the next day.

That was the worst whopping I ever got in my life..

"CANDY!", I screamed in excitement, snatching the bag from an unsuspecting Tino's hands.

"Al, wait!", but it was too late. Shoving pretty much all of the candy into my mouth, I chewed enthusiastically on the black skulls of...intense, salty, strong, tar-like death on my tongue. No biggie, I could always spit it out... except I swallowed it without realizing.

My mouth began watering, my eyes were burning and I had a sudden urge to find a-

"BAFFROOM!", I yelled beneath the liquid murder rising up my throat, I had to find a toilet and fast. I scanned down the halls for any sign of escape. Where the hell were those bathrooms I always found when I didn't need them?!

"Help someone! I need a bucket!"

"What are you looking at me for? Do I look like a freakin' janitor to you?"

"No, I-"

"Alfred has lost his secret stash, yes?"

"What secret stash?"

"His stash full of fast food porn"

"What. The. Fffffffff-? You kidding me?"

"Nyet, it's true. I have incriminating evidence"

"Why is he crying?"

"He's not, or at least I hope not..."

"I know why he's sad. He has been left to wallow in sorrows"

"What are you talking about?"

"The substance causing him to cry. Mayonnaise, da"

"Mayonnaise?"

"It has blinded him after one pump and he didn't even get to sample the sauce. Hfufufufu.."

"And here I thought Francis was the pervert... Why is he crying again-"

"THAT DOESN'T MATTER!", shouted Tino. My naseau was too strong for me to bear anymore, by this point I had to lean on something for support. The walls were spinning and I didn't know what I was holding onto until I let the contents of my stomach loose upon it, wincing from the burning sensation it had left in my throat. Yep, definitely not better coming back up.

A shriek of surprise pierced the silence, twisting my neck towards the source of the noise, I came face-to-chest with Lovino Vargas.

Lovino, a.k.a. Romano (but he hates being called that) was a case close to that of Oxenstierna's, only there was more to back up these claims. He's Italian for starters, he's very guarded in personality, threatens anyone with promises of having their family 'sleeping with the fishes' and most importantly, he's _LEGIT_ Italian. I don't know about you but I don't know how any legit Italian would not be connected with or serving under a mafia, well except Feli... I was brought out of my thoughts by a growl that could make the manliest of lions cowardly.

"I didn't mean to hurl on you, please don't kill me!", the Italian bored holes into my head, scowling impressively.

"Mucca...Do you know how much those cost?!", he motioned to his ruined shoes, I shook my head.

"No-", I squirmed, Lovino holding two fistfuls of my shirt now, knuckles digging into my chest.

"One thousand dollars, with tax. Know what that means?", I stood motionless, by now his hands trailed up my neck, begging to choke me.

"MR. VARGAS!", came the spacey yet authoriative tone of a platinum blonde haired man in his mid-thirties, stepping onto the scene sporting a stern, man-child pout aimed directly at my captor. Mr. Heit, teacher of all cooking and music classes, is a very different kind of guy. Not different in _that_ way, but he might have had some wires twisted in his brain at birth. I recall a time where he laughed as hot coffee burned his lap, not missing a beat of the song I was failing. Just requesting we give him a minute. Yeah, you see what I mean. He's cool and everything, just not with moments where teen logic is concerned.

"Put him down this instant", Lovino slowly did as he was told, I sighed in relief, "Now make up and shake on it like friends do"

_Like right now._

"Why?"

"Your brother never asks why"

"Fine! Va tutto bene, mucca..."

"Uh yeah, whatever he said"

Thankfully Mr. Heit didn't treat us to a long talk of anti-bullying bull. That was _so_ 2005. Instead he beamed brightly, giving us the 'one minute' sign, striding away to find a janitor to clean my mess. The positive reinforcement gone, the Italian barreled on me instantly. Putting as much malice into his voice as he could, he warned, "You fucking find me after school and we'll get this deal settled, capice? I feel like being nice today, so be there or your foreskin turns into my pasta, got it?"

Before I could even reply, he stomped down countless indigo lockers to the bathrooms I hadn't noticed until now.

"You're welcome"

I pause, not believing my ears.

"Arthur, I-"

"Let's go Mason, we don't want to be late", the Brit directed his attention to the slightly taller guy next to him, eyes trained away from mine as he grabbed the other's hand and took him out of sight. I frowned subsconsciously, lost beyond belief. Who was that? The first period bell rung and I pushed the thought out of into my mind, he was probably just an old cousin of his. Oh well, I'd get Arthur during lunch anyway.

Taking me on a quick pit stop to the bathroom (just in case), Tino and I raced to our first period classes as the late bell rang. Sitting in my back row seat like always, I folded my hands across my desk, throwing my best winning smile at anyone who dared to look at me.

_Watch out Arthur Kirkland._

_I have an ace up my sleeve and he's psychic!_

* * *

**Translations** (in order, hopefully):

_"...Mucca"_ - "cow" in Italian

_"Fine! Va tutto bene, mucca..." - _ "Fine! It's all good, cow" in Italian

* * *

Again, not much but I'm writing out these days with as many events as I can throw into them. You might not be seeing that just yet, but school is a pain... I'll really try not to make past 4 parts for each day, matter of fact, the next part should take out the rest of the events for this day. Which is Tuesday, btw. Don't mind Ivan's perviness and forced bad joke, I watch too much NC/NC affiliates (so sorry you have to hear it). Uhhh... If anyone would be alittle bit interested in being my beta for this story, even a_little_ bit, I would greatly appreciate it.

Well, this is long enough now. Thank you for reading everyone! And TGIAF! c:


	7. Sorry (This was inevitable)

I can't continue to write like this. It was bad enough when I felt that I physically couldn't write anymore, but now that I'm actually trying and everything is going smoothly I don't want to keep writing in this awful format. With a half-baked thought and squat idea of how to fix it other than scrapping it. So, I'm going to have to stop writing this. I'm still going to write though. And I just finished the first chunk of an idea I have that contains a real plot. :P So... Yeah, I really do appreciate all of the attention this story has gotten still. I just hope you'll see the difference between this story and that one. Thank you for reading. :)


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